Miss Elliot and the Eldritch 6

Chapter 6

I lost consciousness at Thornfield and awoke in Millcote. My muscles burned, my bones felt as though they had been splintered, and when my eyes opened, they were scalded by the light. A groan was pulled from me as I returned to the waking world. That I was alive seemed incomprehensible, especially in light of the terrible pain I felt.
Yet my own pain and moans confirmed the fact of my existence to me. Had I felt nothing, and had the sound come from any other pair of lips but my own, I would have thought it merely a dream, or a ghostly remnant from my life gone past.
"Wake up girl, that's right," I heard a gentle young voice say.
A hand touched my head and began to inventory my vitals and other such basic information concerning my state. I could make out the outline of a female shape, and judging from the tone of the voice I assumed it belonged to a young woman. But my vision was blurred by exhaustion, and I could determine little else.
"Where am I?" I croaked.
"Someplace safe. Do you think yourself able to sit up, miss?" the soft voice asked.
I did my best to comply, though I required help to do so.
"Where am I Madame?" I asked.
"You are at the Millcote hospital. It is not terribly well suited to treating injuries such as those suffered by you and your companion, but bringing you here was the most expedient thing to do after the fire."
"The fire?" I asked. Dimly I was aware there had been such an event, but there were so many bizarre moments in the past few weeks that it was difficult for me to recall more concrete details of it.
"Yes, Miss Eyre, a terrible fire! Thornfield has been burnt down to the very foundations! It was a miracle indeed you were pulled out alive. Had some of the servants not decided to stay to see if you would come out, and if they had not heard a great shout come from the kitchen, then I dare say you and Mr. Rochester might have been cooked alive inside that place." Her voice was friendly considering the information she related, but it was also loud, and hearing it stabbed into my brain. There was something ghastly about hearing such a grim possibility relayed to me by such a buoyant voice.
"Yes, I think I can recall it." I said as she brought a glass of water to my lips.
"Do you know where Mister Rochester might be?"
The girl froze.
"He's not in a good way, miss. Can't you recall? They say you were stuck beneath him. It seems there was a beam that fell upon the both of you—but he saved you from great injury. It's a great wonder, for you seemed to be pinned in such a way that the blow was not fatal to either of you. Other debris must have held the thing up somehow so that you were not smothered."
…
The time it took me to recover was not so very great, all things considered. There were bruises, scrapes, cuts and minor burns, and I had a bad cough, though I'd wager I probably suffered from dehydration and severe heat exhaustion more than anything. Yet Reader, I was whole and primarily healthy.
Edward would not awaken until nearly a week after me. His wounds had been severe indeed. He had taken the brunt of the of the beam's weight that had fallen upon us, and while it had not crushed him, it had caused severe devastation to his body. His right hand had been so utterly damaged that it could not possibly be made to function again. When infection set into it, there had been no other alternative. It had to be amputated.
Oh, if only the loss of a hand were the worst blow dealt to him! For when his eyes opened once more upon the world, he was met only by darkness. The sheer force of the beam striking the back of his head and neck had caused the tissues of his eyes to hemorrhage and sever from their appropriate locations. When he was found, great pools of blood had drenched his orbital sockets. So delicate were these organs, so sensitive their existence that there was little to be done to save them. He was told that perhaps, in time, vision might return; but considering the extent of the damage done, the doctor warned that this outcome was quite unlikely.
It hurt me to know he had been wounded so, and yet I was overwhelmingly glad to know that he was alive. If some bits had been subtracted from him, it did not diminish the whole. He was still Edward Rochester, my love, and my second soul. Upon awakening to find himself alive, to find my presence in his life restored to him, he seemed determined to recover himself, despite his grievous injuries.
Reader, you cannot imagine the joy I felt when first he recognized me, not by the sight or the sound of me, but by the feel of my hands in his own.
"I know this hand!" he gasped. "These are Jane Eyre's fingers! Oh but I had hoped you were alive. I ought to have known that you would slide away from Death!"
There were tears welling in his blind eyes. His expression was still full of as much spark and energy as before, but these traits were now tempered with age and hard-earned wisdom.
"Yes, yes sir," I said. "I have come back to you alive and whole."
"Swear this to me now," he said passionately, "that we shall not again be parted. Should you leave, I think I would die as swiftly and surely as if a bullet had been sent through my brain."
"I am here now sir. I have no plans to leave you," I replied. There were tears forming in my eyes, and a smile spreading upon my lips in such a way that it mirrored his own huge grin.
Oh my second self, I thought then, by reuniting with you my joy is made great.
…
There were a great many matters that needed my attention when I awoke. To try to calm my anxious mind while Edward lay unconscious, I tried my best to address them. Thornfield was in ruins; I had abandoned my post as head-mistress without a single word to my employers or students; the matter of my fortune must be attended to; and most troubling of all, my poor Edward lingered in a drugged state that was somewhere between sleeping and waking as his ghastly wounds began to heal. Slowly but surely, the matters were each resolved, though not without considerable strain on my part, for I found it quite difficult to devote myself to work while Edward was in such an uncertain state.
As he slowly recovered, I attempted to commit to paper all it was that I had experienced, what I had felt and strangely learned. Most of it contradicted what I knew of the world and required me to look deeply into many a system, process or institution in which I had previously placed my trust and faith. This process was, in short, enlightening if not unsettling, and I will tell you now what I know or can surmise of what had truly taken place.
Bertha Mason was not a madwoman. Much like Mary Garrett, some other entity of Eldritchian origin had overtaken her. It may not have even been a female creature that had inhabited her body. Whether I might be able to ascertain such traits as the age or gender of the creature was quite unlikely—if indeed, such traits even could be attributed to these alien beasts that manipulated human hosts. I could not tell. I had only been able to perceive them through such lenses as they chose to filter themselves through, and those lenses permitted little past them.
All this though, you either knew already or may have supposed. What I describe now is nothing that I may claim certainly as fact. For it was not truly answers that were given to me by the Eldritch—they gave me knowledge, but only the information they deemed relevant to the completion of my tasks. Thus, I am able only to make educated suppositions. The Eldritch give no answers. To them, human existence is incidental and deserves no explanations for the actions of greater beings—if indeed, men could even understand their strange motives all that well.
It is my belief that the creature inside Bertha had been brought there by the Mason family. It had been summoned to this plane of existence by beings less powerful than it, who did not understand what it was they called forth, and who then trapped it in an inferior shape. It was a form the Eldritch being despised, one that was subject to rapid decay, (at least, in comparison to its true shape).
Others of its kind had come before it, some of their own volition, others forcibly.  The reasons for their presence in this world were varied and individual. Human beings are a species of free and diverse will, why might they be alone in their capacities? Much like mankind, these creatures, in exercising their wills, or having them diverted by others, found that the results were not quite what they had expected. Some stayed on in human bodies, intrigued, while others left expediently, repelled by this environment and the smallness of the creatures called men who lived in it.
I do not understand, Reader, why it is that some of these Eldritch beings of such seemingly vast power were unable to evacuate the human bodies they invaded. This may not be true of all, but I suspect at least in the case of Bertha Mason's possessor, that it was the involuntary nature of the entrapment that had caused such chaos to affect the English countryside and indeed the world. I do not mean to suggest that the terror that has enveloped many a soul was due strictly to the creature within Bertha Mason; but I feel strongly that Eldritch creatures may have caused many situations similar to hers. This chaos, I believe, is rooted in the problem of otherworldly beings who have found themselves trapped inside human flesh.
On the following points at least, some clarity has been granted to me due to a combination of intensive research on my part, and the small measure of knowledge upon the matter I have been able to glean from what the Eldritch gave me. So far as it would prompt me to action, they did provide me with some information they thought might cause me to help them further.
Perhaps Rochester was aware of some of the darker secrets of the Mason family, but was not, I imagine, aware of their darkest secret.
The Mason family members were largely worshippers of a dark, ancient faith. Its rituals were arcane, its deities bizarre and brutal, and its existence known only to a few, select individuals. The members of this faith feared impurity, and felt keenly that only a select few should be included in their ranks. Thus secrecy was of the utmost importance, for their gods were too precious to them to be sullied by unworthy hands, hearts or minds.
In their devotions to their archaic pantheon they were models of devotion and piety. No duties were outside their desire to fulfill; no cost was too great to bear were it paid in the name of their gods. So great was their devotion to their faith that even their reputation had been laid upon their altar. For not only had Bertha been "mad," but indeed, many other members of her family, both immediate and extended, in three successive generations, were seemingly affected by this ailment.
I submit to you, however, that this was not madness but only something which the strange cult hoped other men would not be able to perceive accurately. It was not lunacy that had been chronic in the Mason line, but instead an inherited position. The body of a certain member of the cult was made to perform as an avatar and host to dark, monstrous beings they worshipped and revered.
In the instance of Bertha, the being inside her was held there decidedly against its wishes; and from what I may surmise from the Eldritch's information, Bertha herself had not wished for it either. It seems that she was not entirely pleased by the idea of serving as a host, and that the task now fell upon her by order of the faith's high priests.
Bertha had a single sibling relation to her name, a young boy who had not been deemed "pure" enough by the arcane priests to be informed of, or included in, the rituals of the cult. A quiet boy, he grew up yearning to leave his home and seek other lands. Once Edward Rochester appeared to them, young, naïve, in want of a wife that he might take back with him to his English home, both brother and sister felt they had found a means of escape. They made plans accordingly to ensure that Bertha, and by extension, her brother, might be attached to him legally when he departed.
Unfortunately for Bertha and her brother, the ceremony to induce the god to this world was performed before the wedding day. Her brother, not knowing this, made to ensure that the escape still might take place. Why the Eldritch seemed to play along with him, I cannot tell. Perhaps it was intrigued upon its arrival. Initially it may not have hated being stuck inside a human body. That well may have been something that developed shortly after it arrived in this world. Or perhaps it was simply mistaken in thinking that the young Mr. Mason was actually one of its followers.
Whatever the creature's reason, its odd behavior soon caused suspicions to arise. As soon as "Bertha Rochester" had stepped onto the boat to England, she began to act decidedly out of character and exhibited grandiose and delusional behavior. Mr. Rochester and Mr. Mason were left with no means to contact the family (nor a desire to do so Reader), and little clue of how to handle the "lunacy" which seemed to have so suddenly come upon the new bride.
There was some benefit for the cult in this sad reputation of insanity. With little else but a disguised family history and his sister's actions to provide conjecture, Mr. Mason, and by extension Rochester, could only assume that the girl was beset with severe madness. It consequently left the creature that inhabited Bertha unable to communicate what it truly was or to remove itself from its bodily cage. For what other group is more renowned for senseless behavior, unintelligible speech, extravagant tales, and a desire to cause self-harm and inflict damage upon others than those who are violently mad?  While there are a few amongst us who might allow someone in such a state to go to lengths that might cause themselves or others harm, usually individuals who exhibit such behaviors are stopped and locked away for good.
The illusion of madness had created for the family an alias that was almost perfectly suited for their requirements for secrecy. Such a trick had only backfired when their avatar was many miles from them, unable to contact them, and seen only as an unhealthy human specimen.
You may question why it is that the Eldritch being did not simply leave Bertha's body, and here once again I must rely on conjecture. I believe, based upon what I gleaned from the Eldritch, that should they exist in this realm as the result of a summons, they could not leave unless the body inhabited was destroyed, and if they were left unable to destroy the body, than they would, by some means I cannot comprehend, call creatures of their own world (but of lesser means and abilities) to help them fulfill their tasks. In some ways, I imagine, it would be similar to a master calling out to its dog for help were he being attacked.
If they entered a human body of their own accord there seemed to be no difficulty in their departure, and the host was left with little damage or evidence left in their wake. What I tell you now, I cannot say with any certainty, it is only what I may surmise. I believe that if an Eldritch is summoned into a human being, the process destroys the poor host, turning the body into little more than a fleshy prison.
How long has man been aware of these beings? How long have the Eldritch been worshipped so madly and slavishly? All that I can say with any certainty is that in the past century, especially in India and England, there has been an increase in the number of Eldritch beasts and cases of Innsmouth. I now knew this meant that there was also an increase in the number of otherworldly beings trapped by men into human flesh.  I do not know what compelled my fellow men to call them forth and restrain them. It was not even a certainty within me whether such people were aware of what they summoned.
For some time I kept this information to myself, unsure of what to do with it, and wondering if I would be believed insane should I speak of it. By letter, I subtly intimated to St. John Rivers that I had a new theory as to what had caused the infestations. Of course, I did this once I had explained to him the reason for my sudden and inexplicable flight. He expressed a desire to hear it, but granted it no credence.
St. John's response to me after my flight was cool. I feared that he held some measure of anger or resentment towards me now, having heard that I had so readily flown to Rochester's side. I suppose it spoke of the deep affection I truly held for Edward; and it may have caused St. John to recognize it was unlikely I should accept his proposal.
Edward, thankfully, believed each word of my tale completely when at last I felt him strong enough to hear it. It surprised me how shortly this time came. When he awoke, finding himself alive and me beside him, he seemed determined to recover, despite his grievous injuries.
When I finally told him all that I now knew, he stared ahead in shock. His blind eyes twitched in agitation, and his remaining hand rubbed anxiously at the wound where once his limb had been.
"She was then…never truly warm flesh and blood, only a clay vessel. My God! Jane how is it that I was so ignorant of it all?"
"Edward," I said, "you could not have known her for what she truly was. I dare say that considering the great number of such cases that have occurred, I cannot think your estimation of her was so unreasonable."
"I was a fool, Jane, a deluded fool! I courted her, I wed her, I protected her and all the while I was merely a pawn of Bertha and the rest of her accursed brood!"
"Yet the truth has been made clear to you. You are free of your misconceptions."
"Free of my 'blindness' you mean," he growled. "But only in a manner of speaking."
He cradled his brow in his hand.
"And yet, oh, I still see so little!" he murmured.
In my poor master I found a soul, who, like myself, was faced with the reality of a far more grandiose view of existence than his prior education had provided.
I was not certain then that I could ever completely reconcile what I had experienced with my former worldview. Never again would I be able to trust and believe so completely in what I had believed since childhood. Yet, I saw then in Edward, some small spark of hope that perhaps in the tumult and madness, there was still some semblance of order. Here I stood beside him, a man whom I loved but who I had been kept from by so many obstacles. Class, age, distance, secrets, all of these had separated us. How unlikely a pair we made! Though I loved him, and he loved me, though we burned for one another, the walls that kept us apart were high and hard to climb.
Yet, here I am with him once more. We are perhaps, the neither of us so naïve as we once were. Edward has been greatly humbled, and I greatly elevated so that now we stand on common ground. Had it not been for the summons which brought me here, for the deep terrors and abiding miracles…I would not have met him again. Perhaps, there is more order than I had suspected in the universe, but it is so very elegant and vast that for man to see but even a small part of it defies their understanding. The whole of this order, I suspect, would be more than I could comprehend.
Once I had promised him my shoulder, and seeing Edward thus, conflicted spiritually as I also was, I offered it again. My arm encircled his great shoulders and I let his head lie gently against my breast.
"We are such small creatures Edward, but in the face of terror and mortal peril, we survive—no, we live. Do not consider yourself deluded, or foolish. We are only children, truly."
"Yes, we live, Jane….but is it some great blessing that I must live on so broken?"
"Edward, a bird may never fly if it does not first come free of its shell by breaking it. There is freedom in knowledge, even should it prove painful to learn, we are improved by it. "
For once my loquacious master was silent and focused himself solely upon the task of resting his head against my bosom. Contently, I let him lie there unperturbed and quiet, for I had missed him so.
"Oh Jane," he said softly, which worried me a little. "Perhaps the harm has carried with it some great blessing for you. You stand before me whole, made all the wiser, and made now into an independent woman. There is no blot upon your pristine consciousness. Yet how can that compare to me? You hold graciously in your arms a broken thing. Here I am, a blind man, a cripple!" He spat these words contemptuously and seemed to require a moment before he continued, so that he might swallow his sorrow and rage. I let him do this and said nothing- it would do him no good to shut the words away into a dark place.
"Tell me Jane, what could I possibly offer you? Shattered fool that I am, not even my wealth might induce you, for you now possess more than I. You, a child of fortune! And well I know that even were I the owner of wealth three times more vast, even were I a Pasha whose robes were stiff with pearls, who might present you with slippers carved of single rubies, not even then would my monies be of any concern to you."
"No, Edward, I would not want slippers like that at all," I said with a smile. "I should imagine rubies might make for quite impractical footwear. They would be very stiff about the toes."
He laughed to hear this, oh wonderful sound.
"You confounding sprite! Is practicality all that governs your life?"
Gently then, I pressed my cheek to his, so that my lips were at his ear.
"Hear this, Edward. You have been judged. Although you have been sent to walk through the flames, you are still alive, and at my side. I shall not permit you to forget this."
His hand gripped at my arm, and he held onto it fiercely.
"You are real, aren't you?"
"Yes sir, I am real."
"So many nights I dreamt of you," he said with a sob, "and then woke to find you were not there at all."
"You shall not need to wish, nor dream, nor hope for me any longer. I am here now. I shall not leave you again."
Then both of us wept to be alive, and to be together once more. But through our tears there were broad smiles and great laughter.
….
Reader, I married him.
And we are happy, in as much as two human beings may be happy. The shadows in the world have not subsided entirely, though in knowing their source, it became easier to more readily light the darkness.
We did our utmost together to spread word of what we knew of the Eldritch and how they might be stopped, or prevented from spreading, if only their cults might be prevented from their vile summoning rituals. Though blinded and crippled, Edward had not lost that great magnetism and energy he had always possessed. Indeed, his physical defects seemed to add to his gravity and lent him credence in the minds of those who heard him speak. Yet it was my words he spoke; fine orator though he was, his strength did not lie in creating his own sentences. He had, reader, no talent for getting to the point of things.
We spoke wherever we might be listened to. It was of course, no easy matter at first, for we had not only many critics, but enemies as well. Some stood against us because they disagreed with our logic and morality. These detractors I could hold some respect for, since they at least battled against the truth based upon the strength of their convictions and principles. There were, however, those among our foes whose motivations were less noble, who profited from the fear the Eldritch caused; like charlatans who claimed to brew cures and wards against the Eldritch, or those who sought celebrity by selling false accounts of their heroism against the beasts. For men and women such as these I could only hold contempt.
Perhaps it was only time and notoriety that began to add legitimacy to the claims we made- I cannot tell. But over the years the "theory" gained ground and success in its implementation.
I am sad to say that at least one of my allies became a detractor. St. John Rivers never seemed to believe what I told him. In his mind the problem would always be one of a lack of Christian morality amongst the peoples of the world, and not one whose origins did not lie where he supposed.
Do not assume, then, Reader, that my experiences have obliterated the faith, love and reverence I have for the Lord Our God. It is true that I had been made aware that the Eldritch acted neither as a result of the workings of God or the Devil, but in denial or ignorance of the Creator. Yet all creation flows from one source. Whether it is beautiful, good and righteous, or abhorrent, wicked and perverse, it is an integral element of the Lord's design. Having witnessed such an abstract element, I have come to know first hand that the work of the Lord is ever more vast, complex and elegant in its machinations than what I or many others had assumed before.
Wisdom and time proved in their accumulation to be the most affective of balms. When at last Rochester and I were blessed with a child, the boy was born with striking eyes. Large, brilliant and black they were, as much as his father's had once been. When the babe was laid into his arms, Edward remarked upon it, for in time, the sight in one eye had slowly begun to return to him.
It was a fact we had acknowledged then, and which we admit most graciously now, that God in his wisdom metes out justice alongside mercy.
By living we invite our souls to be battered by cruelty, the inherent sorrows of existence, and the chance that far more terrible things than we can imagine might make visitors of themselves in our lives. But should these insurmountable pains be faced with goodness, justice and love, not for the sake of reward, but for the sake of these virtues themselves, then there is great reward for mortal virtue. If it does not exist in this world, then I have been given proof of other realms, and know that it must abide in one of them
True beauty, compassion and love endure in this world. Somewhere beneath the quagmire of our troubled lives it surely does exist, waiting to be kindled. It wishes to grow; it desires it, and so it may be fulfilled. Men's souls are made of profound hungers. There are those who sate them with empty things, with a lust for power, or a desire for material wealth, but truly, the substance of man requires a more refined foundation to flourish upon. To find that, gentle Reader, we need only to seek, to hope, and to respond when we are called by such better parts of the soul.